


He loved books and scones

by ImNotaDuck



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred's scones, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bonding, Brotherly Bonding, Cemetery, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson being a proud brother, Dick Grayson having regrets, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason is still dead here, No Romance, Or Is he?, Scones, Stalker Tim Drake, Tim Drake doesn't know how to hug, Tim Drake has good intentions, Tim Drake trying his best, Tim is not Robin yet, graveyard, just soon-to-be-brothers bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23838070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotaDuck/pseuds/ImNotaDuck
Summary: Inspired by tumblr prompt: "I see you every month when I visit my family member at the graveyard and usually you look like you’re dealing, but this time you cry and I just have to go and hug you because you look so sad"Tim meets Dick at the graveyard. Hugs occur.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jack Drake & Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 206





	He loved books and scones

**Author's Note:**

> Hello World!
> 
> It's my first time publishing something for Batfam and first time writing Tim and Dick. I hope I didn't mess their characters too much. 
> 
> The story is inspired by an old prompt I once found on Tumblr. You can find it
> 
> [here](https://i-like-scaring-homophobes.tumblr.com/post/131245218419/au-idea-3)
> 
> Sorry if I got it wrong with the age difference and how much time passed between certain events. I tried to do some research but it left me with more questions than answers. You can thank the DC timeline for that. Oops?
> 
> No romance, just not-yet-brotherly bonding!

Graveyards always had this empty feeling, with so many tombs left forgotten to be covered by moss and dirt, the engraved names unrecognizable. The cold November wind blew slightly, making the trees lose their last colourful leaves. Soon enough the place would be once again covered in snow and ice. Dirty snow and ice of course. It was Gotham after all. 

The fourteen-year-old boy walked along the alley, a single white lily in his hand. Normally he would be accompanied by his father, but Jack Drake had important business and _couldn’t make it this time Tim, I’m sorry._ It was alright. It’s not like they spoke to each other during these visits anyway. 

Five hundred feet and then to the left by the tall tree with a split trunk. Up the small hill and there it was. 

_In the memory of Janet Drake_

_A loving wife and mother_

Tim was never fully convinced about the epitaph but when the funeral company had suggested it, his father hadn’t corrected them. So it stayed. 

He crouched down and put the flower in front of the marble gravestone. The stark white of the petals and dark green of the leaves contrasted strongly with the withered grass. Tim read the silver letters a few times, trying to remember what his mother’s last words to him were. 

He didn’t remember. They probably had something to do with him not being a good enough heir at a gala they attended together before his parents’ fateful trip to Egypt. 

He knew it wasn’t her fault. She was a busy woman, running a company and putting all her attention to their search for the next amazing archaeological discovery. Her heart just didn’t have enough space to fit a child in there as well. 

He stood up and tried to put his coat tighter around himself to fight off the cold. 

Suddenly, a flash of bright blue caught his attention. He raised his eyes to see a familiar figure, standing in front of a dark stone tomb, just down the hill, under the old oak tree.

It was an awful coincidence that the funeral of Janet Drake had been on the very same day as the funeral of Jason Todd. 

Tim still remembered staying a little longer after his mother’s burial to observe Bruce Wayne and his butler saying their goodbyes to the youngest member of the family. 

To Robin.

It had been thirteen months since the funeral and he still didn’t know exactly how Jason had died. It must have had something to do with Bruce’s trip to Ethiopia and sightings of Joker there at a time. Wayne did everything to keep it as much of a secret as possible so Tim could only try to guess. And he didn’t really want to think about his hero’s death.

After his mother’s funeral, Tim had visited her grave every month with his father or alone. And every time he would see the same person visiting the grave of Jason Todd. 

Dick Grayson. Nightwing. The first Robin. 

He would always come and just stand there for a long while. Sometimes he would sit on a small bench and just look at the grave with an unreadable expression. 

He wasn’t present at the funeral. From what Tim could gather, he was off-world at a time, probably with his Titans team. 

But while he had never seen Bruce at the cemetery again, Dick was there every time. 

Tim smiled sadly and gave one last nod at his mom’s grave, ready to go home. It was getting colder and darker with every minute.

He was walking down the hill when he noticed that there was something off with Dick this time. He seemed to be shaking and not from the cold. 

Feeling slightly bad for intruding, Tim walked a little closer and hid behind a tall angel statue. He observed as the young man reached to his bag for something and put it on the ground in front of the gravestone.

“Alfred made his scones today, you know?” Dick said with a shaky voice as he stood up, leaving a small paper bag on the ground. “First time since…” He sighed and his shoulders sagged. “I couldn’t eat them. They reminded me too much of you. You loved them so much, always stealing them to hide away in the library, curled up with a book.” 

There was a short break while the only sound came from the whistling of the wind. Tim wanted to leave, wanted to give Dick his privacy but he was afraid of disturbing the silence. 

“I once accused you of getting butter on one of the books. I shouted at you. I don’t know why I was so angry then. As if you would ever destroy the books you loved so much more than anyone in the manor ever has. I-” Dick took a shaky breath “I’m sorry. I learned that it was actually Bruce’s fault and never apologized.”

Dick put one hand on the cold stone.

“I should have been a better brother to you. I failed you so many times. You wanted us to be friends but I pushed you away all the time. I was so focused on my anger at Bruce and I blamed everything on you. I’m so sorry Jaybird...”

It was very quiet but Tim had no doubts about what he had heard. Dick sniffed. Tim carefully peeped from behind the statue and saw that he was right in his assumption. Dick was crying. He brought up one hand to rub the tears out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything more for a while but the tears just kept coming. Tim felt some itching inside, some inner voice telling him to help, to do _something_ to make his idol feel better.

At some point, Dick’s legs gave out and he fell on his knees in front of the grave. Without thinking, Tim ran to him and touched his shoulder lightly, trying not to startle him too much.

It didn’t work. Dick turned around with a grace of a trained fighter, his stance ready to attack. His eyes were hazy. It took him a few seconds to realize that there was no threat. He squinted, taking in the intruder. 

“You… You’re Timmy Drake, right?” he said slowly, his breath still heavy from crying and sudden movement. “What are you…?”

Tim nodded, suddenly feeling very stupid. What was he trying to achieve, disturbing Dick’s grieving?

“I-I... “ He lowered his head with shame. “I’m sorry. I recognized you and you just looked so sad. I-I… I guess I wanted to ask if you wanted some company?” He stiffened, realizing how bad that must have sounded. “You know, nevermind, you probably just want to be alone now. I’ll leave, don’t- don’t mind me, please. I won’t bother you anymore.”

He turned to run away when his arm was caught by the older boy. He didn’t even register when Dick had stood up and grabbed him. He looked up and met the pair of crystal blue eyes, slightly reddened from tears. 

“Stay,” Dick said in a surprisingly small voice. “Please.”

Tim nodded slowly and came closer, looking at the dark gravestone with the name of his hero. 

They stood like this for a while in companionable silence. Finally, it was Dick who decided to break it.

“He would have turned sixteen last week, you know? He was so excited about learning how to drive. There’s this special car in Bruce’s collection he wanted so much to drive,” he said with a small smile that made Tim guess what kind of special car it must have been. He wasn’t surprised, everyone would like to drive the Batmobile. 

“What did you say?” Dick asked suddenly, his body clearly on alert. Oops, did he say that out loud?

“I said that everybody would like to drive a convertible?” he tried to make his voice sound steady. It really wasn’t the time to reveal his knowledge of Batman’s secret to Nightwing of all people. 

Dick looked at him for a few seconds but let it slide, his body relaxing once again. He pushed some hair out of his face. 

“I’m sorry, I must be tired today. Didn’t get that much sleep last night.”

Clearly. From what the news covered, Nightwing had a run-in with a new drug lord calling themselves Red Hood yesterday. He had been wreaking havoc for Batman for the past month or so. This time Tim watched himself for not saying this information aloud. 

“Tell me more about Jason? If you want to, of course.” Tim suggested shyly. 

Dick smiled at him. It wasn’t his patented Dick-Grayson-Wayne-heir smile or even his Nightwing-the-hero smile but it felt real and made his features soften, showing how young he still was. 

So they sat on the bench and Dick began talking. He talked about how they didn’t see eye to eye at first, putting a lot of blame on himself for not being open enough to realize how lucky he had been to get a younger sibling. He talked about Jason’s love for books and his dramatic flair, how he could quote Shakespeare and Jane Austen on the go. He spoke of his thirst for knowledge with such pride that it made Tim wish he had somebody talk about his own achievements like this. Dick, of course, left everything vigilante-related out of his story but it didn’t feel fake. It just showed how much of an amazing person Jason was as just himself. 

“I wish I could have known him,” Tim said after Dick finished with a few tears leaking from his eyes again. 

“I wish I could have got to know him better,” the young man answered with a sad smile. 

They looked at each other for a moment. It was Dick to break the silence again.

“Timmy…” he sounded hesitant. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Tim, surprised by the question, only nodded, awkwardly reaching out with his arms, not really knowing what he should be doing with them. Fortunately, Dick seemed to have much more hugging experience, embracing Tim easily, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And damn did it feel nice. 

The Drakes weren’t the affectionate type, always distant when it came to social contacts. What Tim got most of the time were pats on the head or hands put on his shoulder to keep up appearances on galas. 

Being hugged by Dick Grayson felt so warm. Instinctively, Tim pulled the older boy even closer, trying to give back some of that great feeling of _not being so alone_. He hoped that he could comfort his hero at least a little bit. He could still hear the quiet sniffles but didn’t comment on them. Maybe Dick just needed to get it all out. 

They stayed like that for a long time, just taking comfort from each other, thinking about the lost boy they could have known better. 

* * *

“Thank you, Timmy,” Dick said when they finally reached the parking lot in front of the cemetery. “It was nice to have someone to talk to.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Tim smiled at him, happy to see that some light had come back to his idol’s eyes. Brooding didn’t look good on the original Robin.

“I hope we will see each other again, Baby Bird,” Dick replied, the nickname slipping off his tongue naturally. 

Tim, who couldn’t think of an answer to that, just nodded. A plan started to form inside his head. If he could bring back light to Dick’s life, maybe he would be able to…

“Want me to give you a ride, neighbour?” Dick’s suggestion broke him out of his thoughts. Tim responded with another nod, quickly running to the other boy’s car. 

* * *

Later that night, a gloved hand picked up the paper bag from the grave and disappeared into the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and constructive criticism are highly appreciated!


End file.
